


Silly boy

by umplsstop



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confessions, Crushes, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, USUK - Freeform, america and france have a bromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umplsstop/pseuds/umplsstop
Summary: "Oh America," whispered France. "You are more of a child than I thought."America opened his mouth to say something, but closed it in favor to hear what France was about to say."You don't see it, do you?" France chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and lighter, lighting it. "Everybody can; oblivious as ever, sweet America." France took a long drag. "Anybody with eyes can see England is head over heels in love with you, and has been for a very long time."





	Silly boy

Thankfully, the world meeting took place in New York City which meant America wouldn't have to fly or get a hotel and simply walk to the meeting. 

Tying his tie and smoothing his suit, he gave his hair one last glance then grabbed his phone and wallet. Surprisingly, America was always on time and always put effort into his appearance.

Why? Well, a hero has got to make good impressions! 

Or that's what he told himself, at least.

America bounded down the steps of his home and strolled down the street, for the meeting place wasn't too far; only about ten minutes. Walking was far more efficient in New York after all. 

When he arrived to the building, he poked in the highest floor number and stepped in, leaning against the wall and closed his eyes. It always took a minute or two to reach the top, including any stops it made.

Right. Why he always dressed so nice? 

England. England was the reason why.

America felt his pulse race at the thought of the cynical nation, the man America had idolized since he was small. However, the idolization and platonic love had grown into something else has he got older. After the revolution and the teenage angst, around the early 1900s was when he felt something blossom.

Too bad England never gave America a second glance.

It was frustrating, but America couldn't blame him. America was loud, obnoxious, and always was eating or doing something the Brit found annoying, but he just couldn't help it! 

Throughout his entire life, it was America's goal to just simply get England's attention once. Even during the revolutionary war England just treated him like some dirt on his shoe or a bug he could just step on while walking down the sidewalk. 

Even as a young colony, only a little child, England neglected him. When he came he would pat his head, make him lunch and tell him stories but he wouldn't be there for long and then hop onto his next colony. 

However, he could proudly say, despite the neglect, he was definitely the favorite. England took more trips to his house, spoiled him, and told him fantastic stories as a pirate however he never showed affection. He would buy gifts and visit, but America couldn't remember the last time England showed genuine love.

America was knocked out of his thoughts by the elevator stopping and the doors open to a long hallway that led down to the room. He stepped out, checked the time on his phone, and began walking down the hall. 

At the end of the hall were two large, brown doors that opened up to a large meeting room that could hold hundreds of nations and micro nations, however they were usually found and kicked out.

Already there were almost all of the  nations. Including England, who was currently being pestered by France. 

Plastering on his big, pearly-white grin, America strutted in and waved, "Hey! America is here!"

England looked away from France, face flushed. "You're late," he griped.

America didn't say anything or point out how he was actually five minutes early, he simply just continued smiling and went up to the front where a podium was. 

"Is everybody here?" He asked.

Germany raised his hand. "Do a roll call, please."

America sighed, and began calling our nation names.

 

 

The meeting, as usually was long, dull, and boring. He talked about some financial stuff, which caused China to raise his hand and ask when he was gonna get his debt paid in which America just ignored him. 

America turned off the slideshow of the last presenter, who was Spain, and was about to exit before somebody sidled up to him and threw an arm around his shoulders.

He looked over and saw France, which caused America to immediately relax. Despite their obvious differences, America and France had a close friendship (And almost something more, but that's a different story for a different time) and talked a lot. And not just for diplomatic purposes! Ever since France defended him in the revolutionary war, he immediately thought France was a cool dude and wanted to be friends.

To his surprise, France seemed to enjoy their little friendship too. Whether it was because America was powerful or to piss England off or genuine friendship, America didn't truly know.

"Hello," greeted France. "How are you?"

America smiled warmly. "Hey, France! I'm doing good, you, bro?"

France let out a sigh, which signaled that he was about to go on a long rant. He removed his arm from America's shoulders and slid it down to his lower back and began walking. "Absolutely exhausting! Your airport security is a nightmare, and then I had no breakfast and no beauty sleep!" France then began waving his hand, as if to wave himself off and open the door for America. "That holds no importance...Are you free tonight?"

America looked up, squinting at the lights. "Uh...." He thought for a second then looked back down at France. "Yeah. Why?" 

They entered the elevator, however France made no move to press any buttons and instead practically blocked them from America. "Let's have dinner," he purred. "You and me, somewhere of your choosing however I will not let it be one of your nasty, fast food restaurants."

"Yeah sure, just when--"

"You're paying," said France. He tugged at America's cheek with an adoring grin, pressed the ground floor button, then skipped out which caused the doors to not even close.

America was about to press the button before somebody scurried in, then pressed the button for him. America looked over, then immediately inwardly groaned. His luck. It was England!

"Hey, England," greeted America.

England shifted, obviously exhausted. "Hello America."

"Was my presentation good?"

England hesitated before responding, "It was passable, I guess."

America beamed down at England. "Thank you!"

They went silent, America awkwardly staring down at his shoes that he made sure to polish.

The elevator stopped, and as soon as it opened, England darted out. America's heart clenched. Did England really hate him that much.

America frowned to himself as he went to exit the building, not even smiling or winking at the front desk ladies as he usually did. He had thinking to do, and as to why England almost never spoke to him unless it was diplomatic purposes. Diplomatically, America and England were close and had that "special relationship" America always had the urge to flaunt.

What also hurt him was whenever they did speak it felt distant and cold and the older nation always had to belittle him. He felt like a small child, though that is how England viewed him. 

When America arrived at his home, he immediately shed his shoes and dressed into a different button up and pants but shedding the tie. He threw on a random blazer and pair of shoes, assuming wherever him and France were going he'd probably force him to dress nice.

He sat down on his couch, turning on netflix and clicking on the office, however he paid it no mind and sat there. His phone rang, and America glanced down to see it was France letting him know that he was going to meet him at some nice restaurant about 5 minutes away from America's home.

Turning the TV off, America grabbed his wallet and began walking.

America found his seat and sat there to wait for France, while looking through the menu. Of course it had French food he couldn't pronounce. America adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, that he hadn't bother to redo.

After about ten minutes of waiting, France finally appeared, winking and blowing kisses to girls and guys and slid into his seat and flagged a waiter. He asked for some kind of wine America didn't understand. America ordered a shirley temple, for he was underage in his own country, and watched France glance at the menu who wore a small frown and furrowed brows.

A couple moments passed, and America cleared his throat. France looked up, seemingly surprised and sat his menu down. "Ah, yes," France crossed his legs. "You look like a dad as usual."

America chuckled. He'd been told by Japan that his style reflected an old Japanese dad. "I've been told, I like it!"

France let out his own chuckle. "So how has everything been?" He asked, as if he was expecting something other than the simple "good" America gave him earlier.

Before he could respond, the waiter came with their drinks and poured France's glass. America thanked him, and France said some fancy french food. America just went ahead and asked for the same thing. 

"I've been..." America trailed off and sighed. Might as well unload, he did ask. "I've been better."

Seemingly intrigued, France leaned forward as he took a sip of his wine. "Oh?"

America rubbed at his temples. "Just...France, dude, you've known England for a while."

"Yes, sadly."

"Why is he always..." America tried to search for the right words before deciding to just be blunt: "Why does he not like me? Why is he never proud?" 

An unfamiliar emotion crossed France's face before his lips turned up at the corners, while his eyes held something America couldn't catch. It was that look France had when he knew something that you didn't, it could've been phrased almost as a smirk. "I wouldn't say that."

America picked the cherry out of his drink, popping it in his mouth. "He hates me! We never speak and I just can't..." America scrunched his face up; he was getting emotional. "Why..." he stopped himself, hoping France would understand.

Suddenly, a warm hand was placed upon his. America looked up to see that small smile back on France's face. They paid no mind as the servers set their food down. "Oh, cheri, you are so young," he whispered, rubbing his thumb across the back of America's hand. "Practically a child, no?"

America flushed bright red, resisting the urge to snatch back his hand. "I'm not a child!" 

"No," agreed France, eyes dragging up and down America. "No you're not. However you might as well be."

America sighed, not even wanting to eat his food. He simply continued to sip at his shirley temple.

"Come," said France as he stood up. America looked up, frowning. France slapped two hundred dollar bills down, and pulled America to his feet. "Let's walk."

America just simply nodded, following France out the door.

The cool air hit America. He loved the weather in October, it was warm but it had a cool breeze. He and France walked side by side, ignoring the other citizens who were either drunk or fixing to be drunk.

They walked for what seemed forever before they ended up at central park. America looked around, smiling at his land. They walked a bit longer before America spotted a bench by a large fountain; he tugged at France's sleeve, and they sat down.

Glancing up at the moon, America let out a small sigh. It was full and illuminating. "Why did you ask me to dinner?"

"Can I not enjoy a dinner with my favorite ally?" 

America gave France a look, who then let out a small smile. "Ah, you're not completely dumb!" He crossed his legs and threw an arm around America. "My reasoning does not matter."

America looked down at his feet, deciding the french man's reasoning actually did not matter at all, although strange. He crossed his ankles and uncrossed them four times before speaking up again: "Why does Arthur not want to be around me? This afternoon, in the elevator, he apparently couldn't even stand to be in an elevator with me...It's not just that either!" America crossed his arms, practically hugging himself. "Throughout my entire life, I never once heard how proud he was of me, or... how...I just want him to say 'I love you.' At this point, I don't even care if it's platonic. Though, all I want is to wake up and know England loves me and I love him, and for us to giggle while opening Christmas gifts and for me to protect him during scary movies. I want to kiss his tears away and him to tell me that I am silly but in endearment! I want all that sappy stuff, but that'll never happen. Will it?" 

There was a pause, then France's arm was removed. America knew he spoke too much, but he had to let everything out, and it was at that moment that out loud he revealed all of his thoughts that circled around one main one: He loved England.

America's stomach did flips and face burned, realizing all that he said. He sat up straighter, fiddling with his hands. Slowly, America glanced up to see France smiling at him with fondness. That same fondness France had held for him all the years he's known him. America wouldn't admit it, but France truly was like a big brother or some sort of weird uncle or vodka aunt to him. 

"Oh America," whispered France. "You are more of a child than I thought."

America opened his mouth to say something, but closed it in favor to hear what France was about to say. 

"You don't see it, do you?" France chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and lighter, lighting it. "Everybody can; oblivious as ever, sweet America." France took a long drag. "Anybody with eyes can see England is head over heels in love with you, and has been for a very long time." 

America opened his mouth and closed it again multiple times like a fish. "No," he whispered. "England hates me...He..."

France stood up, pulling up America with him. "America, he loves you with all of his heart and a blind man can see it. You're an idiot to not think...You should see the poor man when he is drunk! Oh, and all of the letters and--" France stopped himself, shivering from the cold. Automatically, America slid off his blazer and threw it around France's shoulders.

France took America's hands into his own that had royal purple painted fingernails. He squeezed them tightly. "I am proud of you, as is Canada, however nobody could be more proud of you than England. This is a guarantee."

America's breathing hitched before he whispered, quieter than the breeze itself, "where is his hotel room?"

After France gave him the room and hotel, America immediately darted off.

He didn't bother flagging down a taxi that would get stuck in New York traffic, and the fact it's so expensive. He knew the place by heart and before he knew it he flew up the stairs after being too impatient for and elevator and was now on the seventh floor of a hotel, England's room number glaring back at him.

Taking a deep breath, puffing out his chest and putting a large smile, he knocked on the door.

Immediately he heard cursing in a familiar British accent, then rustling and footsteps. The door swung wide open to see England still in his suit and tie, however now shed of his blazer and even messier hair--he was adorable as always.

"Can I please come in? We have to talk!"

England's eyebrows rose, however he said nothing as America pushed past England and took a seat in a plush chair. England shut the door, then crossed his arms. "This better be for a good reason!"

America nervously wrung his hands together; if this went wrong he may have just ruined all of his relations with England. "I..." He sighed. "England I...I.."

"Well? Spit it out, I am not getting any bloody younger!"

America jumped out of his chair and lunged for England, pulling him into a hug. England surprisingly didn't even struggle, however he made no move to hug back. America cradled England's head with a mop of messy blond hair to his chest, breathing in his smell of honey and sugar, most likely from his tea.

After a couple moments, England slowly returned the hug. America could feel him slowly loosen up and squeeze back. England rubbed America's back, then murmured, "Are you alright?"

America didn't answer, just slowly breathed. He just needed one last hug and moment in England's presence, then confirm or deny and possibly change their entire lives. 

He didn't know how long they stayed like that before America finally pulled away. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. 

England looked up, obviously flustered before he shifted his gaze. "What was that about?"

America couldn't help but let a small grin stretch across his face before grabbing and taking England's hands into his own, mirroring what France did to him earlier. He looked down at England, who was gazing down at their hands with wide eyes and pursed lips.

"I...England..." America squeezed England's hands, who squeezed them back. "Please don't hate me, and please don't ever leave me..."

"what? I--"

"Please stop me before I am even more of a fool," murmured America. "I...I was trying to get your attention, but I figured you hated me but..France told me some interesting information, and you know me, I can't read the atmosphere or express myself very well. So, I will do this in the best way possible. Sorry old man."

With that, America surged forward and softly pecked England's lips. It wasn't a long kiss, however America figured that was enough to get his message across. America stumbled backwards, surprised at his own boldness. His face heated up, and he glanced at England who was staring up at America with a red face and furrowed brows. America resisted the urge to kiss him again. 

England slowly blinked, then beamed up at America with the biggest smile he had ever seen him. "Oh you idiot," he murmured. "Do you know how long I've waited for you to do that?"

America mouthed, "holy cow." Then grinned, cupping England's cheek. "I love you so much England."

"And I you. I have a lot to tell you and explain, my silly boy."

 


End file.
